The happiest time of their lives — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The happiest time of their lives
John Stuart Mill · en
Nothing had ever happened that made him suffer as he had suffered
through his daughter’s divorce. Divorce was one of the modern ideas
which he had imagined he had accepted. As a lawyer he had expressed
himself as willing always to take the lady’s side; but in the cases
which he actually took he liked to believe that the wife was perfect
and the husband inexcusable. He could not comfort himself with any such
belief in his daughter’s case.
Adelaide’s conduct had been, as far as he could see, irreproachable;
but, then, so had Severance’s. This was what had made the gossip,
almost the scandal, of the thing. Even his sister Alberta had whispered
to him that if Severance had been unfaithful to Adelaide--But poor
Severance had not been unfaithful; he had not even become indifferent.
He loved his wife, he said, as much as on the day he married her. He
was extremely unhappy. Mr. Lanley grew to dread the visits of his huge,
blond son-in-law, who used actually to sob in the library, and ask
for explanations of something which Mr. Lanley had never been able to
understand.
And how obstinate Adelaide had been! She, who had been such a docile
girl, and then for many years so completely under the thumb of her
splendid-looking husband, had suddenly become utterly intractable. She
would listen to no reason and brook no delay. She had been willing
enough to explain; she had explained repeatedly, but the trouble was he
could not understand the explanation. She did not love her husband any
more, she said. Mr. Lanley pointed out to her that this was no legal
grounds for a divorce.
“Yes, but I look down upon him,” she went on.
“On poor Joe?” her father had asked innocently, and had then discovered
that this was the wrong thing to say. She had burst out, “Poor Joe!
poor Joe!” That was the way every one considered him. Was it her fault
if he excited pity and contempt instead of love and respect? Her love,
she intimated, had been of a peculiarly eternal sort; Severance himself
was to blame for its extinction. Mr. Lanley discovered that in some way
she considered the intemperance of Severance’s habits to be involved.
But this was absurd. It was true that for a year or two Severance
had taken to drinking rather more than was wise; but, Mr. Lanley had
thought at the time, the poor young man had not needed any artificial
stimulant in the days when Adelaide had fully and constantly admired
him. He had seen Severance come home several times not exactly drunk,
but rather more boyishly boastful and hilarious than usual. Even Mr.
Lanley, a naturally temperate man, had not found Joe repellent in the
circumstances. Afterward he had been thankful for this weakness: it
gave him the only foundation on which he could build a case not for the
courts, of course, but for the world. Unfortunately, however, Severance
had pulled up before there was any question of divorce.